Today, I will be taking a little break from writing about politics. Oh, who am I kidding? There will be a sprinkling of politics, here and there. You see, politics is in everything. We engage in politics from the time we are born, whether we realize it, or not. From learning how to navigate, and yes, even manipulate to some degree, our parents, our siblings, our teachers, our preachers, and even our friends. Oh, I don’t mean ‘manipulate’ in some evil sort of way, but admit it, we all do it. We convince people to be supporting actors in our own story.
When we were children, we learned to speak differently to each of those different groups, and find the most effective way to build each of those relationships. That is the very definition of ‘politicking’. With that said, most of this article will just be a tribute to my dad and brother on their birthday, both of whom are looking down, and observing.
As I began writing this article, it started getting pretty long, even by my standards. But, in trying to edit it down, I realized this is a great way for me to pass on some family history to my daughter, and other family members. So, to read the entire thing, you’ll need to click the link, and read it in Substack, because it exceeds Substack’s email length limit.
“You Can Catch More Flies with Honey, Than Vinegar”
I’ve always been a bit gruff and pushy, to my parents’ dismay. No, no, you may not think so, but hear me out…
My entire life since childhood, my dad would try to convince me that “You can catch more flies with honey, than you can with vinegar, son”. Finally I said to him “Who wants to catch flies? They make for horrible pets. They’re untrainable; they won’t sit, lay down, roll over, sit up and beg, or shake. I don’t aim to catch flies, I aim to swat them… hard”.
From my perspective, it isn’t that I have to change how I catch flies, but that people need to decide whether they wish to be a fly and get swatted, or be fellow fly-swatters.
My Father
My dad, Ted, was born on December 15, 1928. He was number 5 of 13 children (don’t ask… it’s a Catholic thing). When he and my grandmother came home from the hospital, she placed him under the Christmas Tree on Christmas Eve, like the Baby Jesus. A story I’ve heard a million times. OK, maybe not that many (although my dad would say “I told you a million times not to exaggerate”).
Early Years
When he was young, maybe 10-14 y.o., he had a dog named Skippy, who he was training to help him deliver papers on his paper route of a few hundred home deliveries. He trained him to take the paper all the way up to the second or third-story apartments. The problem was, Skippy would bring the paper back down with him. A technical glitch my dad was working on when Skippy went missing one day. My dad maintained that someone must have stolen him, because “he was the smartest dog that ever lived”. This is one of my favorite dad-stories.
After he finished his route, he would sell papers on the street, in front of a very large industrial complex in Endicott NY, which ran 3 shifts (There was a war on, you know). He would get up early enough to deliver the 300-or-so newspapers, and arrive at the shift gates by 6am, where thousands of employees were either finishing the night shift, or beginning the first-shift, before heading off to school, barefoot, uphill, in 3 feet of snow, apparently even in June.
Even the CEO of this factory (let’s call him Tom), pulling up in his chauffeured limousine, got his paper from my dad, who Tom called ‘Whitey’, because of my dad’s nearly white hair.
You see, papers were a nickle, and Tom would give my dad a dollar every day, and say keep the change, so it was a coveted gig. If my dad was running a little late from his route, other boys would try to sell the CEO his paper. Tom would tell them “Sorry boys, I only get my paper from Whitey”. That company was the original “Plant 1” of a business called “International Business Machines”. The CEO’s name was Thomas Watson, Sr., the Founder of IBM.
High School and Beyond
Dad attended High School at St. Francis Seminary on Staten Island. I think my grandmother’s hope was for him to eventually become a Priest. Luckily, my mother came along and that never happened, or you wouldn’t be reading this right now.
Although, his brother Arnold was Ordained as Fr. Stephen, and at some point was the Chaplain at the local college before establishing Mount St. Francis Hermitage in Union Center, N.Y. Fr. Stephen later worked as an investigator in the Vatican, routing out Communists in the Church (I think he missed a couple, one of whom wears a very pointy hat). Also three of my dad’s sisters, Eleanor, Lillian, and Chris became nuns. Although, all three later kicked the habit (get it?)
Family Life
Mom and Dad raised us with a good moral code of ethics, and a strong Catholic upbringing. The kind of thing you look back on, as an adult, and are grateful for, but maybe not so much at the time. Most of us went to Catholic School, at least through 8th Grade.
Our parents raised us as entrepreneurs. Most of our childhood, and all of our adulthood, dad had some business or another. As kids, each of us were ‘stockholders’, and we would hold stockholder meetings at the dining room table. Later in life, brothers Teddy and Bill, and I would become actual stockholders in the family businesses.
Before I was a twinkling in my dad’s eye, there was the Chuckwagon, a breakfast/lunch spot where the high school kids all hung out after school.
There was a time when a code enforcement officer came and threatened my dad with child-labor laws for having us kids work at the businesses. He went to the hearing and simply asked one question… “Would you rather my children were out on the street, getting into trouble, or learning the value of a strong work ethic?”
Case dismissed.
Then there was the Christmas Tree lot next door to the Chuck Wagon, which later became the car wash. No pictures of the tree lot, but here’s Michael, showing off the original plywood Santa from that lot, which my brother Steve still has. Last I knew he still had the real sleigh, too. I hear-told of some pictures of Michael showcasing Keith Richard’s house, but that’s another story for another time (Michael’s mom and Patty Hansen are cousins).
Then there was A-Z Vacuum in Endwell, where I grew up hanging bags and belts on the display rack, before learning to rebuild electric motors on the bench.
When my brother Ed was older, he convinced my dad to start a machine shop. My dad was the shop manager at K. Hein Machines, when he was around 21, so he was an experienced machinist. I remember the stockholder meeting, when we were coming up with the name. We came up with Val-Entaprises, Inc., a play on our name, but dad said it wasn’t available, so we chose Val-A Products. Later, in 1995, my then-fiancé/now-ex-wife and I started our wholesale sign manufacturing business, incorporating in FL as Val-Entaprises, Inc., but that’s a whole other story (which I’m in no hurry to relive).
Mostly we made “widgets” at the machine shop for other manufacturers in the area, many of whom had government or military contracts. We never knew what they were, just some component of a larger part of an even larger machine. Nobody ever really knew what they were making.
Universal Instruments had contracts with Singer-Link (aeronautical/govt/military). They asked my dad if Val-A Products did silk screening. We had never done silk screening, so naturally my dad said “Absolutely, we do screen printing all the time”. This was the one time that we knew exactly what we were making (even though they didn’t tell us), because it was in all the papers as to what Link was making… military flight simulators. So, we screen-printed the instrument panels for Link’s newest Flight Simulators. I mean, really, how many 12 year old’s can answer the question “What did you do after school today?” with “Oh, not much, rode my bike, shot some hoops, printed the Top Gun Flight Simulator Instrument Panels. What’s for dinner?”?
Val-A Products exploded due to a faulty gas meter, which was eventually proven in a suit against Sprague Meters. What a mess, but we rebuilt on the same location, keeping only the foundation and outer walls, and had a much newer and more modern office and shop floor.
We also had a pressure washing business, overlapping the machine shop and vac store era. You see, we rarely only had one business at a time, it seemed. And, when Nabisco announced they could no longer justify an outside contractor to clean their delivery trucks, my dad cut the price, and took some on barter. I can still taste the ‘Cheez-It’ and ‘Chicken-In-A-Biskit’ crackers that we got paid with.
Florida-bound
Reaganomics dealt a hard blow, even though it was probably a necessary fix to right the ship. So in 1983, we moved to FL for a fresh start (halfway through high school for me), bringing the pressure washing business, and purchasing a 50% interest in a small, 1-bay sign shop. Within a year, dad’s partner said he couldn’t keep up with a husband, wife, and 3 teenage kids, and needed to retire. So, we bought him out. We grew that sign shop into a 3,200sf operation with 20 employees and several crane/bucket trucks at its peak, and according to Lee County Permitting in the 80’s and 90’s, we pulled more permits than any other competitor, before finally closing in ‘96.
In 1989, needing to diversify, we started Janitor Depot in Fort Myers which added janitorial supplies to our vac shop experience. This eventually sold around 2003 or 2004, and the new owner got my ex-wife in the inventory. What a deal.
My Brother
I am number 7 of 8 children. My parents had a pattern… First they had a girl, then 2 boys, then 2 girls, then 2 boys. When my mother became pregnant with number 8, they were sure it would be a girl, to complete the pattern.
We weren’t wealthy, but having 8 kids requires a pretty big house. So, my dad built our house in 1969-1970, along with my 2 oldest brothers, Ed and Steve, who were teenagers. And, my dad’s Uncle Lou was a contractor, so that helped a lot, as well.
Junior
My mom had always wanted a Junior. My dad felt it was pretentious. But, every time since their first pregnancy, she tried to convince him. When she was pregnant with number 8, she said “Ted, this is our last chance and I really want a Ted Jr.”
Her due date was something like December 6th, I think. She usually hit her due date pretty closely. So, my dad acquiesced, subject to a couple simple stipulations. First, and most obviously… it had to be a boy. And based on their track record, he felt pretty confident it would be a girl. Secondly, “he” would have to be born on my dad’s birthday; not the day before, not the day after; but ON his birthday. He was confident this would never happen. Mom was never that far off the due date.
Anyone who thinks that God has no sense of humor is sorely mistaken…
Teddy, Jr. was born on December 15th, 1971, and the 2 were thick as thieves from that day forward.
Some Miraculous Moments
First, you have to understand that my dad liked his coffee ‘hotter than a lawyer suing McDonalds’. If it was still boiling in his cup, it was almost hot enough. Many a times one of us would have to go reheat his coffee on the stove.
One day my dad was playing with 10 month old Teddy on the family room floor, and my mom brought Dad his coffee and put it on the floor near him. Somehow, Teddy managed to plunge his entire hand all the way in the cup. Third degree burns over his entire hand. The doctors initially thought he might lose the hand. But, Teddy’s hand healed very fast, never got infected, and didn’t even show much permanent scarring.
When I was 8, and Teddy was 4, my parents went out for date night, or some event. They asked their good friends, Mr. and Mrs. Judge to babysit Teddy and I at their home. They had dogs, and Teddy and I were playing with the dogs.
For just a moment, we accidentally crowded one of their dogs from different angles, and made the dog nervous. He nipped hard at Teddy’s face, catching his lip and cheek. It was pretty serious. His upper lip was cut open all the way through, and there was an enormous amount of blood. Luckily, the Judge’s daughter was a nurse and performed some first aid until he got to the Emergency Room.
The ER couldn’t work on Teddy until they had my parents’ permission. I don’t have to remind you that cell service hadn’t been invented. Heck, Al Gore hadn’t even invented the internet, yet.
They eventually reached my parents, got the necessary permission, and performed some surgeries to repair his lip. He healed quite miraculously, with a slight scar on his lip, much less than half as obvious as Joaquin Phoenix, for reference.
Close Family
The Valenta clan are a very close-knit family. In fact, when we used to have regular Family Reunions every 2-3 years, there would be over a hundred in attendance. We were very close as siblings, and with cousins.
The Miniature Man
Teddy had an “Old Soul” quality about him. Even as a kid, he seemed to be wise beyond his years. My sister’s boyfriend, Dan, nicknamed him “The Miniature Man”, and it really fit him to a tee. Here’s his Confirmation picture…
Sharing Birthdays
From the start, the Ted’s Birthdays were a big deal in our house. You have to understand that if “Dad-isms” and “Bad-Dad-Jokes” are a thing, my dad was a connoisseur. For those of you who know me, I come by it honestly, as I am my father’s son. So, the next time I’m making a bad dad joke… go with it. I’m honoring my dad. Somebody has to do it, and my sisters are no good at bad dad jokes.
So, that leads us to the jokes. Right after Halloween, my dad would get a very young Teddy, maybe 3-5 y.o., to call up our brothers and sisters who had already moved out into adulthood. My dad coached him to say in a very serious tone “Dad and I have been searching the house, we’ve looked in every closet and under every bed, and we can’t find our birthday gifts, anywhere. We are beginning to get a little nervous. There’s less than 2 months to our birthdays”.
Dad’s birthday favorite was strawberry glazed pie, and Teddy’s was cherry cheesecake.
This Life is But a Drop in the Bucket
Teddy’s Passing
Teddy, myself, and our next eldest brother, Bill, were quite close. At the time of Teddy’s accident, we were working late on a Friday night at our family sign company, EWP Signs in Fort Myers (Page Park). Bill had an apartment in a 4-plex we owned, I lived in North Fort Myers with Michelle (Mom and Dad were not amused), and Teddy, being 17, still lived at home in Cape Coral. Bill and I went home by the east exit from the industrial park, and Teddy by the west, otherwise Bill and I would have been on the scene of Teddy’s accident. His truck went off the road and hit a fence, and the horizontal pole broke apart and went through the windshield, steering wheel, and his throat. Michelle’s brother in law was on the scene as a fireman, and told us that it took less than 5 minutes to arrive on scene, and another 15-20 minutes to free him from the fence with equipment. Teddy was revived several times on the way to the hospital.
Organ Donor
While I recently removed ‘Organ Donor’ from my driver’s license for what I can only describe as political reasons… back in 1989, our family firmly believed in the practice of leaving behind that which we couldn’t take with us, anyway. I don’t want to politicize the issue here, but if you want to know why I made this recent decision, there are plenty of links, such as Organ Donor Wakes Up and Whistleblower Allegations on the Organ Transplant Network. I suppose if I didn’t know what I now know, I would feel differently. In my own form of cognitive dissonance, I choose to believe that the current practices recently revealed were not occurring in 1989.
Teddy’s accident was in late July of 1989. On his way to the hospital, the EMTs had to resuscitate him in the ambulance several times. Once at the hospital, they put him on a respirator to keep him alive until an organ harvest team could arrive. This process took until Aug 8th, for a myriad of reasons.
On Aug 8th, the entire family held a meeting, and a sort of vote, to make the decision to remove Teddy from the respirator. We sat with him through the night, and into the next day, before he finally passed on Aug 9th, 1989 which became known as ‘Eight-Nine-Eighty-Nine’, an easy way to remember the date. Around the same time, school was getting back in session, where Teddy would have begun his senior year at Bishop Verot High School.
Throughout his stay at Lee Memorial Hospital, doctors would come in, look at Teddy, sign his chart, and walk out. By the time the hospital bill came in the mail to my parents, you would have thought that Teddy spent 6 months in Intensive Care.
Some months later, the Organ Donor organization sent a letter to my parents, condoling them for their loss, and thanking the family for Teddy’s contributions. They listed how many people were helped by various organs, which were not as many as most donors, due to the damage sustained in many organs from his time on the respirator and many resuscitations.
My father replied, thanking them for their kind words, but chastising Lee Memorial for the exorbitant hospital bill. My parents soon received a response that the hospital bill would be taken care of.
Dad’s Passing
My dad received heart bypass surgery in the early 90’s, after stents failed to do the job. He never really rebounded physically, and also suffered from pulmonary disease, which is what eventually took him in 2008. My parents were on vacation, back in Endicott, when he fell ill and was taken to the same hospital he was born in, almost 80 years earlier.
Ultimately, Dad’s last endeavor was to join the Lee County Sheriff V.O.I.C.E. volunteer unit. He was scheduled to go out on his first patrol when he got back from vacationing in NY, which never happened.
When Dad passed, I made a video for his Memorial Service.
Uncle Davey was Still in the Navy
Throughout my childhood, all my aunts and uncles would call me “David, I mean Bob”. Apparently, I resembled Uncle David in appearance and behavior, compared to him when he was that age.
David was a career Navy man, and was COB (Captain of the Boat) on I can’t recall which ship, but when he retired he was up for possibly getting his own ship to Captain, but chose to retire and go into business with his brother Jerry. He could never quite find his land legs and ended up missing it so much, he re-enlisted. But, the drop in rank he had to take, and no prospect to Captain his own ship soon had him retiring again.
He spent the next couple of decades working in a shipyard, which was the next best thing. After years of being subjected to asbestos, both on the ship, and in the shipyard, David developed pulmonary disease as well.
My Uncle David passed away this past week. I was lucky enough to recently have 2 good phone calls with him. We talked about politics. We are very like-minded that way. I shared with him some of the battles we’re fighting in Lee County, Florida, and the nation.
I would have really loved to have attended the funeral yesterday, but my mom and sister Ann are there, representing. I learned today that David will be interred at Arlington in the spring. What a great honor for his service to this great nation.
Ed and Nancy and Mark and Ann
I bring David up, because it dawned on me that with the funeral yesterday, and Dad and Teddy’s birthday today, it sort of reminded me of 2003, when my sister Ann was getting married in California. My daughter was to be the Flower Girl. We were all just a few days away from flying out from all over the nation, when my brother Ed was killed on a tractor on his property. So, now instead of a wedding in California, we were heading out to a funeral in New York. So, here’s a little insight into Valenta tenacity… we decided to have the wedding on the original day, but in NY, instead.
This was a monumental task. My daughter’s Flower Girl dress was back in FL. Ann’s Wedding Dress was back in CA. The CA Marriage License was worthless, when getting married in NY. Let’s just say that neighbors had to break some windows to gain entry, and ship dresses to NY. A New York Marriage License had to be obtained, and NY doesn’t move quickly when it comes to gov’t red tape.
We had the wake one day, the funeral the next, and the wedding on the third day.
Happy Birthday Dad and Teddy
In your honor, I will make a strawberry pie and a cherry cheesecake. I’ll save you a slice. Happy birthday. I miss you both very much.